Tuesday, August 08, 2006

In Kindergarten, it is Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, the Sandman & sometimes even the Boogie Man. Someone who keeps us up at night, waiting and anticipating.

But twenty years or more later, who can it be? What could it be? Just what is it you believe in, that touches you with magic, that comes to you secretly in the wee hours of the night to give you a gift, or to take one of their own... to scare & surprise you ... to steal you, your heart and your sleep or to give it all to you? Just who is it ... What is it that you believe in, that keeps you up at night, waiting & anticipating?

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I read this to my husband, his reply was 'I believe in myself.' I laughed, but bit my tongue. (I don't think he keeps himself up at night, waiting and anticipating, himself.')My answer probably should be God. thant would be logical. But God, doesn't keep me up at night, waiting and anticipating. Perhaps, he should, but in anonymous honesty, he doesn't.My honest, adult answer is 'Nothing.'I'm feeling like my inner-child is all grown up and moved out, leaving me feeling like an empty nester.

The random songs on my Ipod, as I lay there getting sleepy, every night I want to hear this one song, and at the same time fear it will come on. "White Flag" by Dido reminds me of a recent heartbreak and yet another lesson in love.

I go to sleep in peace, regardless of the hell that might have sent me there...i just give it up, say a silent prayer for the sunrise and trust that BELIEVING is enough, but little monsters make a playground out of my slumberland...snatching me wide awake, OPEN EYED and reaching across the sheets for peace again....Did I take the garbage out?Damn precious cat playing bedhead with my hair again....Hot flashes....Did I set the clock on AM or PM?Bill collectors, those anonymous voices, with scrunched up faces and the same old dirty lines...the silence...Too many beers to hold until morning...The smooth empty sheets beside me...

I have neighbors that fly, I mean really fly...at night..things with wings....and they have blue eyes too, at least two out of three...not Mick Jagger's wild eyes, Not the angst of the Who, Not the bedroom eyes of Frank Sinatra....but maybe, the cool blue, barely there, whisper of a reminder....I don't know who "Frank Sinatra eyes" is...or if he flies in dreams or friendly skies, but perhaps we've met before,all of us, or will....and that sweet sib, is weird wild stuff!

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